On Killing My Worst Critic

Known anyone who paints houses? Get in touch ASPA, no carpentry needed this time, the target isn’t even real.

As a child, I would draw one picture after another, for hours. When the draft was finished, I would crumble it, throw it to the bin, and carry on trying.
I would not expect perfection with the first 100s drafts, why would I?
I liked the act of creating, and the outcome wasn’t that important.

He was inexperienced too, and I would get away with my subpar creations.

But not any longer. The times have changed now.

I may start with the same enthusiasm of 10 yrs old, only to quickly realise that the picture in front of me isn’t the one I can see in my head. And it is not even a close match.
The gap, between reality and expectation, grows bigger with every minute, with every brushstroke, with every word, with every camera cut.

The compromise is needed; otherwise, I go crazy. I let myself finish this thing, only under the strict promise that the next time I will try harder, creating “real art.”
When the “piece” is done, my polite friends often say “not bad try”, “I couldn’t do better”. And they are probably right.

Unfortunately, I don’t compete with them.
And he just sits there, with a smirk on his face, matured critic, shaking his head and mumbling with disbelieve “come on, is that all you have?”.

As I cannot stop him judging, and I will probably never satisfy him, I better get used to it and carry on regardless.
Why not?


PS. If you haven’t seen Irishman yet, do it. No one paints houses better than DeNiro.
PSS. Picture found on the internet if you know the owner, tag him in! He can read my mind!